redlisse

Me, several minutes after applying Dian's Bud: "OMG, smell me! I smell like the best bubble bath ever." And it's true. If bubble bath were a really lovely perfume, it'd smell like Dian's Bud. I know it sounds kind of weird, because who wants to smell like Mr. Bubbles? Maybe for novelty, but not as a regular everyday perfume. Yet I find myself wearing this one a couple times a week, and I frequently get compliments on it. This is a very soft, sweet not-quite-floral. If there are violets in this blend, they are subdued, soft, and almost creamy. The overall effect is clean but not crisp or soapy; slightly aquatic, a little blurry, and...very soft. This is the one I wear as a comfy scent, like a favorite pair of fuzzy jammie pants. I feel very mellow and homey wearing it - if I'm in a bouncy, chipper mood or if I want attention, I reach for something else. There's just something so sweet and unassuming about this blend, and I love that.

I don't know if Aunt Caroline's Joy Mojo works for me the way it's supposed to, or if it's just a placebo, but every time I put it on it's an instant mood-lifter. And I don't even think it smells that great. Not awful, but not great. (I'm told it smells like the pink cakes in men's room urinals.) But I keep an imp in my purse for those days when I just wake up cranky, or when my coworker/boyfriend wakes up cranky and spreads it. And, no kidding, thirty seconds after putting a drop in my hair, it's like the sun comes up. Not only do I get bouncy and happy and cheerful, but everyone in my vicinity does too. Which is a serious, serious blessing. *buys bottles and imps to share*

Arachne is a perfect example of what my skin does with even a hint of something that might resemble a note that might once have flirted with an aquatic in a past life. In the bottle, she's all sweet soft flowers - similar to the ones hiding behind all the wintergreen in Hamadryad - and herbs. On my skin, she bursts into nothing but a water note - a light, rainy scent instead of one of the heavier thick aquatics, but still water. That aside, I really like this. The overall impression kind of wavers between a light pale wood-and-floral and a watery, almost cottony little-girl perfume. Sometimes the herbs come out to play, with a light tanginess and a hint of woodspice. Yes, despite the rainy effect, I very much like Arachne.

Fresh out of the bottle, Joy Mojo smells like...bubble-gum scented bubble bath. Not real bubble-gum, but that bubble-gummy soap scent. As soon as it touches my skin, it veers into the related territory of "tutti-frutti toothpaste." You know, that fruity pink gel stuff with unicorns printed on the tube you got as a little kid. I always hated that stuff. Mere minutes later, I am informed that it smells precisely like a men's public restroom - cleaner and pink urinal cakes. I personally cannot vouch for this...but then, now it smells like pink, fruity marshmallow vanilla with toothpaste. With SO MUCH sugar. I dunno if it's bottled happiness, but...um....the scent isn't doing it for me.

I was really, really looking forward to this one - I drooled over it in last year's Yule update, but couldn't afford to buy anything. So I was thrilled that it came back this year. In the bottle, Jacob's Ladder is very warm-smelling and golden. I suck at notes generally, but it's not a bright sunshiney sort of warm; more like a nice cuddly amber. Very promising. Unfortunately, the oil hit my skin and collapsed into instant baby powder. I confess, of the many, many oils I have tried, this is my first baby powder experience; I'd read about it and been smugly content that I was not afflicted. Alas. After a few minutes, a big heap of spicy resin appears in the middle of all the powder; Jacob's Ladder is now a heavily spiced baby powder. And there it stays for the next six and a half hours (and still going, I might add). I wish some of my favorites had this much staying power. My Boyperson of Choice agrees with the Spiced Baby-Powder verdict, but thinks it's wonderful. He also thinks Mme. Moriarty (my current favorite) is "stinky." I say he has terrible taste in fragrances and will just have to put up with the stink, because Jacob's Ladder is giving me a headache.

I really wanted to like this. I knew I would like this - I was so sure, in fact, that I passed up an almost sure-thing (Krampus) to get a bottle unsniffed. Tobacco, leather, woods and linen? It still sounds perfect. Unfortunately, all I get is cherry. Not even cherry-fruit; cherry wood - which means that by the time it fades, the whole scent is gone. I can smell dry woods and leather underneath, but I can't appreciate them, because the cherry is overwhelmingly sweet and...kind of icky. The Boy won't even come near me until I wash it off - he says I stink. Which is quite the statement, because even when he describes a scent as 'cheap eighties hair gel' (Punkie Night - boy's sniffer is broken, says I) he's always pretty tolerant. But much as I've tried to convince myself to love the good Herr Drosselmeyer, I have to face reality...he's kind of a jerk.

I really, really suck (as a general rule) at picking out individual notes, but I swear that Bitch is almost straight-up chamomile. Chamomile tea even, with a smidgey-smidge of anise and maybe a touch of orange peel. I can almost taste honey - not because it's actually in the blend (I doubt it, as I turn even the most unassuming of honey notes into a cloud of syrupy sweet) but because I always add ridiculous amounts of honey to my chamomile tea. In the bottle, it's much more herbal and sharp; it's only after a quick drydown that Bitch turns into a cup of chamomile tea. I have no idea what the dominant note I'm smelling is until then. As for purpose - Bitch doesn't so much make the PMS go away as it makes it sort of optional. My hormones are vicious raging monsters right now, and frequently I feel like I have no control over what's coming out of my mouth, and my eyes seem to cry without me, and I'm prone to illogical temper tantrums (not like yelling screaming ones - I pout like a toddler). This blend doesn't make those urges any weaker, much less suppress them entirely; instead, I have a little bit of distance. It gives me the ability to say to myself, "I am being very unreasonable here, and this is a silly thing to cry over," and if I make an effort, I can stop. So...not a big, flashy miracle, but still very helpful - this Panacea is subtle and soothing as a mug of chamomile tea. I don't mind the scent, but wouldn't wear it as a perfume (though it lends a relaxing herbal edge to Snow White's vanilla sweetness) - but I don't want to be without it during this time of month. I very much like the fact that the effect is quiet and subtle, actually.

Woo, this is soooooo pretty. I'm having a hard time describing this scent - it reminds me of a good unisex cologne, but also of incense smoke (the nice kind); it smells like being lost in a smoky daydream, and it smells like the kind of mystery you never solve. It is, in short, drop-dead stunning...in a swirly foggy drug-addled sort of way. And that is all.

I couldn't tell you why, but this reminds me rather strongly of Monster Bait: Underpants. Maybe it's the vanilla and sandalwood, I dunno, but it is a very good reminder. I'm so happy that I love the Mouse's Story, for personal reasons entirely unrelated to the oil itself. Not that the oil itself is anything to sneeze at - it is, in a word, gorgeous. The amber goes just a bit powdery on me, but not in a bad way (which is saying something, as I generally hate powder) - it's just enough to fool my brain into thinking that there is something fuzzy and soft here, and several times I caught myself actually petting my wrist on reflex. The vanilla is sweet and soft; the amber is touchable and warm; the sweetpea and sandalwood respectively soften and ground it. So it smells fuzzy, like a mouse; and if it is a story, it is a long, rambling story by a small girl with enormous sad eyes who is convinced her world is ending because her blanket is in the washing machine. In other words, not terribly sad at all, but very adorable and cuddly in the extreme. I am a fan.

After I'd ordered the Frumious Bandersnatch (shun the beast!), I figured out that plum doesn't like me. Any 'dark' or 'red' fruit in general, in fact, tends to dry down into a thick, almost fermented smell that strongly reminds me of my mother, who I in no way want to emulate. So I wasn't expecting much from the Bandersnatch. Alas, every time I think I have managed to pare down my wishlist a bit, I discover that a problem note can work in the right circumstances. The plum was gorgeous; I think the chrysanthemum and the fading remnants of carnation kept it from doing its usual overripe-headtrip tango. But before it got to the sweetly soft and plummy stage, there was Carnation. Fear the wrath of Carnation, for it is terrible. I have a feeling that the carnation is what makes the Bandersnatch frumious; were it not for that floral note, the monster would purr and roll on its belly for a good scratch. Unfortunately, carnation goes to bloody town, prancing its spicy-spiky self all over my arm in a nose-burny screaming dance. I kept sniffing for that fuzzy Bandersnatch I knew was there, but the carnation kept jumping in the way, yelling rather loudly that it was FRUMIOUS, dammit, PAY ATTENTION, and then stabbing me in the nose and attempting to burn out all the sensory receptors therein. So...the drydown was nice, yes, but not really worth the wait. I'm sorry, dear Bandersnatch; I know you're really a pussycat at heart, but you've got to get over that attitude problem. I can't wait for your naptime just to cuddle you.

I get...a lot of butter. Very strong, savory butter. There's fruit in there too, and red fruit tends to kind of ferment on my skin - drowning it in butter does not help matters. Don't get me wrong - I like butter, and I like fruits. This does not mean I like buttered fruit. I had to wash Drink Me off before too long, because much as I wanted to like it, it was very strong and kind of grossed me out.

I tried Alice fully prepared to like her. I wanted to like her. The description is so lovely. And I had to try her quick, because she was one of half a dozen imps in my most recent order whose caps just snapped on me. But my skin turns sweet Alice into aged baby oil - thick and cloying and not at all what I want to smell like. Poor Alice. I'd swap you, but your head is broken.

God, this smells like sex. And I've gotten most of the regular BPAL oils that are supposed to smell like sex; almost all of them made me incredibly uncomfortable. Not that they smelled bad, per se - it was just that they had a raw, straightforward quality that seemed very not-compatible with my personality. But LaFlamme is everything I wanted a sex-scent to be. It's warm and orangey and enticing, compelling, bright red. And that's just from a purely olfactory standpoint. From a functional standpoint, this blend is amazing. I did a small ritual, anointing a candle and using the wax (it was a very, very drippy candle) to make a charm, which I also anointed. Needless to say, oil got everywhere and I was, in my opinion, very smelly indeed. No less than fifteen minutes after I finished wrapping my charm, I got a call from the boy in question, who decided that while he wasn't doing anything but watching TV, he could just as easily do that at my house, and would it be all right if he came over? I was surprised and impressed. One thing I found odd was that even though he was very sweet and affectionate (which is what I was hoping for) when I apologized for how very strong I smelled (every time I turned my head I smelled LaFlamme, and I could taste it at the back of my throat) he didn't know what I was talking about. He couldn't smell anything, he said as he kissed me. In any case, I think it smells dead sexy. And I'm almost tempted to track down another bottle, even though this one is still full into the neck, out of sheer paranoia that I might someday run out.

I'm discovering that I shouldn't even bother with 'forum favorites' like Dorian, O and Snake Oil, because my skin is determined that I shall never, ever be one of the cool kids. Snake Charmer is no exception. I mean, Snake Charmer sounded absolutely gorgeous in the description, and I was all set to order it even before I knew that everyone else was nuts for it. I got my bottle and it was the first thing I tried...and also the first thing I ever swapped away, less than three days after getting it. It hit my skin, and I immediately smelled like an unwashed hippie walking past the cheap incense pagoda in my local mall. All I got was body odor (and not the good kind!), heavy generic incense, and a hint of overripe plums. I tried it again, with similar results, keeping it on for a long time for both experiments - even though I make it a rule that anything where I find myself being very careful to hold my wrist away from my face and breathe through my mouth is an automatic swap. After a few hours, it mellows out to a nice vanilla-spice...but those hours of holding my breath and wincing at my own perfume aren't worth it. Off to swaps she went, to someone who will love the SnakeLady better, and I got myself something I like much more.

I ordered an imp of this back in March, and just now got around to trying it - 'seven dry woods' sounded lovely, but the reviews said cinnamon, and cinnamon gives me welts, and...And then I opened the imp and got a completely surprising blast of WINTERGREEN. And it was a very specific wintergreen - a little syrupy and very sweet, like those white breath-saver candies with green crystals in them. The imp sat untried on my shelf for almost two months, because the idea of putting that much mint on my skin grossed me out just a little. I love mints in my mouth, but I am a firm believer that they have no place in my perfumes. Yesterday, however, I was feelin' brave (and also planning on a shower in half an hour ) and put a tiny swipe of Hamadryad on my hand. Almost immediately, the wintergreen backed off, becoming a light, sweetly sharp waft that I loved smelling. It was like the candies lost the white 'candy' part and I was just smelling the crystals, and I was surprised by how much I liked it. But then it got better. The mint burned off completely after about fifteen to twenty minutes, and I was left with a gorgeous, subtle blend of woods and sweet, unassuming florals. I love woods, but normally they're more...robust, somehow, than Hamadryad is. In this, they are soft, very soft, like an oil rather than a wood. And the florals are soft and pale and sweet, truly like a breeze rather than a bouquet. All in all, the drydown is cottony-soft, subtly sweet, and simply lovely and unusual. After my shower, I put on more. And you can bet I'm ordering a bottle of this.

Hehe, I actually just gave my mom a few imps for my younger sisters (ages six and seven); the six-year-old got to pick them out of my box. We went through a whole ritual of opening each imp; I carefully pulled off the caps and held them out for her, and she solemnly sniffed each one. She left very satisfied, with Lady Macbeth clutched in one hand ("it smells like purple soda!") and Jailbait in the other. This is not my fault. I wasn't expecting to have her in my box, and she was very insistent on trying them all - and Jailbait does, after all, smell like Bazooka bubblegum, which is a very appealing thing to little girls who are not allowed to have gum for reasons we don't speak about but may or may not involve scissors and their two-year-old brother's hair. My mom gave me a long-suffering sigh, removed the label, and grumbled about how now her fingers were going to smell like bubblegum every day after she helped Abby put on her 'big girl perfume.'

I don't have kids of my own (not for a loooooong time yet) but I'm the oldest of nine kids, and most of them are still in elementary school. My six-year-old sister, who still insists that she's 'my girl,' has been coming over for the last week, saying 'make me smell like cake!' She likes the Monster Baits, that she does. My youngest brother (three years) likes Closet, but the seven-year-old girl loves the Hesperides. She liked Lolita, too, but my mom won't let me share it, saying she doesn't want to have to explain things.

Nguh. This is the most drop-dead gorgeous thing. Really. It is. Sweet vanilla cream with a cakey vibe to it in the bottle - but on my skin, it does this subtle but drastic morph into a sweetened vanilla-sandalwood-saffron. I never got any rum, but that's okay. BPAL's vanilla is one of the longest-lasting notes ever on my skin; generally if something has vanilla in it, an hour later it's vanilla-with-stuff-underneath, and then two hours later it's a really sexy vanilla skin scent that lasts all day. Pantybait, I'm happy to say, stayed true and lovely for twelve solid hours. No, I mean it. Twelve hours. And it was absolutely delicious. I reapplied before bed, because it was just that good (generally I don't do bedtime applications) and I could smell it on my pillow this morning. I looked like a cat with catnip. The only sad thing is that I only got the one bottle, and I know I'll want/need more.

This smelled so very promising in the vial! Sweet sweet berries and strong wine, with a dark, yet slightly effervescent undercurrent. How lovely. On me, however, those juicy berries and that sparkling darkness turned to straight grape soda. Every once in a while, I caught a whiff of that intriguing dark note - but then it was back to sticky-sweet grapeyness. I hate grape soda. I hate grape flavoring. *sigh*

Strangely, I don't get any sweetness or apple from this at all. Wet, it's strong patchouli-musk, and that's a little scary - but I persevered. And oh, was I rewarded! This dries and calms down into an absolutely gorgeous wood-vanilla blend, with just a touch of subtle rose floating over it. I'm discovering that my skin loves vanilla, but expresses it by just holding onto the scent longer than anything else (unlike the obsession my skin has with gardenia and honey; those just end up overpowering everything else). So now I've got my wrist glued to my nose, because this is just lovely. Not bitter, but warm and sweet and mellow.

Wow, that was fast. I really, really liked the Mock Turtle. Apple and lime are two of my favorite scents, and the aquatics were indeed blurry and soft and perfect. And I didn't catch more than a faint whiff of the mint, which allayed my fears of smelling like an Altoid. What? We all have our little phobias... But I applied this sweet, tangy-watery Turtle about half an hour ago, and it is gone. And I don't just mean really faded; I mean literally I can smell nothing but my skin. And that is very sad. ETA: Maybe it was a fluke? I tried it again, and while it didn't stay very strong, it did loiter about on my wrists for hours - just a flirty whiff of something very nice. If I pressed my nose to my skin, all I could pin down was the ambrette and iris - the rest of the 'contrary splort' was indeed contrary and tended to flitter in and out of sniffability. It grows on me.

Honey! YOU are the culprit! YOU ruined O for me! Athens is, I'm sure, beautiful. Lovely even - on someone whose skin does not turn honey into overpowering drippy oozy cloying YELLOW STICKY SWEET. And mine does. So...not so much a match made in heaven, yes? On me, this was honey, sitting on my wrist in a heavy cloud, screaming 'hey! look! I'm honey! seriously, dude - check it out! honey! the stuff bees make! don't you like honey? huh? doncha?' Ad nauseam. Sometimes, if I sniffed very carefully, I could detect other things attempting to beat honey into some semblance of good behavior, but their attempts were less than successful. The myrrh, which is generally golden and gorgeous, made an especially valiant attempt, and even succeeded (after four or five hours) in morphing the attention-whoring honey into a cross between Florence and O. However, since I hated O (somehow the smell of vanilla-flavored creamer powder mixed with honey just ain't my thing), and Florence, to me, is like Bastet's prudish younger sister...thanks, myrrh hon, I appreciate the effort, but I don't think this is working out.

First swipe? Strong, strong Lemon Pledge. I smelled like cleaning products - the kind that make me sneeze. After a few moments (or a half hour or longer; I was distracted, okay?), though, the sharp disinfectant odor backed off, turning into a vaguely fizzy smell - almost like carbonated lemonade. Better, much better. I was surprised at how long this lasted - most of my favorites require touching up at midday, but at the six hour mark I was still noticing changes. The carbonated lemonade calmed down into a more lemongrassy smell; it started acting like lemon verbena instead of artificial lemon. I approve. The florals came in, lending both a sharpness and a softness - I'm guessing the heliotrope was the bright edge, and the honeysuckle was the creamy sweetness underneath. The orange blossom, thank goodness, never made a strong appearence, though it did threaten. I'm not good with orange blossom. At the end, I was left with a soft impression of almost vanilla - I like it when honeysuckle does that. All in all? It requires a retest, but I don't think I'll be giving away my imp, though a bottle is a tad unlikely. But this is the first floral that I've liked even this much, so woot.

In the words of my boss, who (despite laughing at my 'obsession' and teasing me for weeks) tore through my BPAL box even faster than I did: "That smells like cake. Really heavy, sweet cake, with the thickest, richest, ooziest cream frosting ever." Then I put it on, and the entire office proceeded to discuss whether or not I was now edible, and whether I'd notice if the aforementioned boss stole my bottle. It stayed pretty cake-with-frosting, and it's strong stuff. I'll remember to go lighter on application next time. After a few hours, the blackberries start to work their way out of the blend; that's when I realized they'd been there the whole time, hiding and making things sweeter. But later they start to emerge as a separate note, going just sour enough to take the overpowering sweetness down a notch, just lending a nice tart edge. As long as I don't forget and lick my arm (though the Boy did, and the results were not pretty), all is lovely and delicious and fragrant. Mmmmm, cake.

Okay, as a preface, I'm not great with notes. Couldn't tell you what's strongest, or how sweet it is, or what kind of sweet - none of that. So instead, I'll tell you the picture Ogun paints in my head. I applied Monster Bait to my wrists, but when the Boy handed me Ogun to sniff, I got a smear on my finger, so I smeared it in the crook of my elbow and promptly forgot about it. But it kept distracting me - reaching past the (very strong!) cake of Monster Bait to say 'hey! look at me! I smell delicious, don't I?' Ogun is masculine. Sort of. It's like a very pretty girl with huge eyes, wearing her boyfriend's white button-down shirt. It's too big for her, and was made for a boy besides, but that just makes her look adorable and sexy. On the Boy (who owns the imp, drat him) it's that same white shirt on your schoolgirl crush, who is now sprawled across your bed looking like every fantasy you ever had. Don't get me wrong - I keep mentioning 'sexy.' This isn't a blatantly sexy blend; not at all. It's sweet and...attractive. Almost innocent...oh, I don't know. I just really like it. And now I want a mens' white button-down.